A piece of hair falls in front of my face, and I go to brush it away, but Ashton beats me to it. “Keep your hands on the bench, Allie.”
His words travel straight to my core, lighting me up from the inside out. Oh God, what if Declan was right? What if I do have a secret need to be controlled? Without hesitation, I place my hand back where it was, to the right of my hip.
Ashton nods in approval, but why do I want more? Why do I need him to praise me for the simple act of following a direction?
His fingers go back to my waistband and he slowly peels my leggings off, watching me the whole time. I lift my hips to make it easier for him to pull them off. When he gets to my ankles, he takes off my sneakers and socks, throwing them to the side, then slips the material over my feet. Now I’m in nothing but my panties and the Headliners T-shirt.
He looks up at me from where he’s crouched down on one knee, his pupils blown out, liquid amber spilling over the blackness.
“Spread your legs, Allie.”
My first thought is that he’s going to see the damp spot because Ashton simply taking charge and telling me what to do is making me unbearably wet. But somehow, the embarrassment of him seeing it only intensifies my need.
I part my legs, and he curses under his breath, but he doesn’t say anything else. Part of me is relieved, but another part of me, one I’ve never given a voice to, is disappointed. Because I want him to tell me what a slut I am for being so wet. How I’m needy and desperate for him. How I need to be filled and he’s the only one who can do it. All the things I said to him last night. I want him to say them to me. Last night, I felt so strong. So powerful.He gave me that power, and I held it in my hands like the precious thing it was.
I like whenyoudegrademe, Chaos.
He said he likes when I do it. Not anyone else.Me.
Now I want to give him that same power.
My thoughts are cut off when strong hands grip my thighs and he pulls me forward so my ass is halfway hanging off the bench.
“You good?” he checks.So good.
I nod my head. “Yes.”
That’s all he needs before he’s ripping my panties off and throwing my leg over his shoulder. Then he looks me dead in the eyes as he flips his hat backward. I audibly gulp. He didn’t just—holy shit. He just did the thing. The thing with the—I can’t even construct a sentence right now.
“Here are the rules,” he says, raw confidence radiating off him in waves. “Don’t move your hands.” He presses his thumb to my clit, and I gasp. “Don’t make a sound.” He circles his thumb, and I hold my breath to keep any more noise from escaping. “Don’t come until I say you can.” His thumb freezes, and the circles stop, but he presses down, applying slight pressure. Not nearly enough. “Break a rule,” he continues. “And you don’t get to come at all.”
He removes his thumb, and it takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to whine at the loss of it. He chuckles. “Don’t worry, I’m not really into denying. I mean denyingyou. I kinda like it when you do it to me, though.” He runs his middle finger down my clit, stopping right at my entrance. “I just want to make sure you can follow directions.” I’m breathing so hard, my glasses would for sure be fogging up if I were wearing them.
“Do you want my fingers or tongue?” he asks casually, and all I can do is nod. He’s trying to trick me like some fucked-up version of Simon Says. He said no sounds. That includes talking. I’m not dumb. I know how to listen. I just usually choose not to.
He laughs, but it’s not mocking. It’s that hearty Ashton laugh like he genuinely can’t hold it back. Then just as fast as it started, the laughing stops and lust pixelates in his eyes.
“Good girl.”
There it is.The praise I wanted earlier.
“Let’s go with both, just to be on the safe side.”
With that, he licks a line up my clit while simultaneously plunging a finger into my wetness. A glance down shows me he’s on both knees now. Just like that morning at my house, he’s playing my body like—well, like a piano, but I won’t dare say that out loud. I don’t want him to stop or slow down. I want more. All of it. Every little shred. The worst part is he knows it. I hold back a moan, but it’s nearly impossible seeing as I can’t even use my hand to cover my mouth. I buck my hips to meet his tongue as he continues his assault on my clit because he didn’t say I couldn’t move at all.
“I love how responsive you are,” he says in between licks. He adds another finger, pumping slowly as he makes figure eights with his tongue. Then he looks up at me, and I realize he does this every time he’s on his knees for me. He loves seeing my reactions.
My whole body buzzes as the filthy noises he’s making fill the enclosed area. My lower belly tenses, my orgasm hovering just at the edge. He pumps faster, sucking my clit into his mouth, and when he hums against me, my vision blurs. He said not to come until he told me I could, but there’s no way I can wait. I look down at him, my eyes pleading. He notices as he looks up, but doesn’t stop his movements. When he sees my face, he removes his mouth but keeps his fingers moving in a steady rhythm.
“Come,” he says.
That’s all it takes. One word and I’m hurled off a cliff. It takes every bit of control I have not to scream out as I pulse violently around his fingers. I open my mouth as I will my vocalcords to stop working, and by some miracle, they do. My hands press into the bench, my fingernails digging into the wood so deep, I’m worried I won’t be able to get them out.
The whole time, Ashton remains latched onto me like he’s never going to let go. Only when the waves finally subside and turn to ripples. Only when my hips stop thrashing and my heartbeat slows from near tachycardia, does Ashton move back, licking his fingers like they're drenched in honey.
He mutters something that sounds like “that’s one,” but I can barely hear him through the blood rushing in my ears.
“Tell me how you feel,” he demands, and this time I actually hear what he says.
